


preventative measures

by Archadian_Skies



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post Campania Arc, Suicide, the thorn disease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 22:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17292242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/pseuds/Archadian_Skies
Summary: A Scythe was made to cut through flesh indiscriminately, whether mortal, Celestial, Demonic and everything between. That included Reapers too.“We have to be sure, Agent Sutcliff,” one of the medics murmured as she eased a syringe into the crook of Grell’s arm, “that the wound contains no traces of anything.”Of anything, her mouth said but her eyes said ‘the Thorn’ because traces of souls left on unclean Scythes could infect Reapers with the one disease they were prone to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Separate prompts combined and imported from tumblr

A lot of ‘we have to be sures’ and ‘just in cases’ were cooed to her, as if the phrases were supposed to offer comfort instead of fear.

A Scythe was made to cut through flesh indiscriminately, whether mortal, Celestial, Demonic and everything between. That included Reapers too.

Ronald had to be sedated for the tests, and she wondered if she should have opted for that as well.

“We have to be sure, Agent Sutcliff,” one of the medics murmured as she eased a syringe into the crook of Grell’s arm, “that the wound contains no traces of anything.”

Of anything, her mouth said but her eyes said  _‘the Thorn’_  because traces of souls left on unclean Scythes could infect Reapers with the one disease they were prone to.

Beside her, another medic leaned over Ronald and extracted blood for testing. The younger Reaper had a line of angry puckered stitches on his chest, mild in comparison to the gaping wound tacked taut across Grell’s torso. Had it been any other Reaper and she would’ve gladly let them take the brunt of the Mad Old Bastard’s swing, but it was her stupid Ronnie and he wouldn’t have stood a chance against the Ancient Reaper.

She felt cold and nauseous from bloodloss and fatigue, and her hands shook when she tried to lift the glass of water to her lips. Grell managed a sip before she had to surrender the glass to a nearby medic in case she dropped it.

The Thorn. The Undertaker could have infected her with the Thorn.

Grell curled up on her side, knees to her chest and head buried. She feared little in life, but an incurable, agonising disease was one of them. 

The staff bid her to rest as they dimmed the lights and left her to sleep, but sleep proved frustratingly elusive when all she could see behind her eyelids was the sickle Scythe and Ronald’s frightened face and sudden spurts of red.

If infected she would spend the rest of her shortened lifespan on heavy medication and mandatory rest periods, drugging herself numb and spineless in some attempt to alleviate the feeling of something clawing madly in her chest.

She wasn’t like Alan. She didn’t have someone like Eric, someone who would take on extra shifts to ease the workload, someone who would shoulder her when she weakened, someone who would stay by her side and kill for her if it offered even a glimmer of hope.

Grell felt incredibly small, and the cold had crept inside and settled in her bones. Wrapping herself in the thin blankets, she stumbled out of bed and into the nurses’ station, pawing around until she found the phone.

It was well into the night but she needed to hear his voice, even if all he would offer were barbs of poisonous words. She didn’t care. She was used to it, after all.

_“Spears.”_

“William.“ 

_"Sutcliff? What are you doing? You need to rest.”_

She closed her eyes and sank into a nearby chair, her chest too tight with emotions and the awful, awful dread that she was sick and dying and he would’t care at all.

“Will, I just-” her voice broke and she felt the fool for it, for sounding weak instead of brave and passionate and fearless. “I just really need to have you here right now.”

_“Sutcliff, it is almost midnight. You should be asleep. I have been informed the test results will come back from the lab by noon tomorrow.”_

Grell said nothing, just listening to his voice and trying to find any trace of worry in it and wondering if he knew if it were him she would have been at his bedside at a moment’s notice.

“Will please. Please come here.”

_“Sutcliff-”_

“I’m scared.”

Silence on the other end of the line, and Grell was sure he’d hang up any time now. After this, she told herself, she’d march down to Dr Farrough’s office at the end of the hall and ask to be sedated. Better to feel nothing, than to feel nobody’s comfort.

_“Grell-”_

She hung up, setting the phone back on its stand and leaving the station, closing the door softly behind her. Wiping her eyes, she rebuilt her resolve and promised that if she was going to die she’d slaughter the entire Demonic population of London and then some. 

It brought enough comfort for her to close her eyes and fall asleep.

* * *

 

Something smelled like wool and aftershave, and Grell wrinkled her nose. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she gingerly sat up, only for something to slide off her sheets. Blinking awake, she reached out and retrieved a heavy black overcoat from the end of her bed.

Her eyes widened as she recognised it, and a quick glance around revealed William fast asleep in the chair beside her. His hand rested on her pillow, palm up and fingers curled. 

Sinking back beneath the sheets, Grell turned on her side and placed her hand in his. Closing her eyes, she slipped back into a deep sleep, but not before she felt him squeeze her hand tenderly. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Darling.”

“Good morning Grell.”

“Thank you for coming, and please take a seat. This might take a while.”

He nods, hanging his coat on the back of the chair before taking a seat at the dining table. She smiles gratefully, though her brows are pinched with an unvoiced anxiety.

“I made tea but it might be cold already.” Grell apologizes as she sits opposite him, tracing the gilded rim of her teacup. “I didn’t know when you’d arrive. If you’d arrive at all.”

“I am here.”

“You would’ve come eventually, I figured.” Short laugh and brief flinch of pain. “Do you remember when I was in the Infirmary after you rescued me from Bassy?”

“Of course I do.”

“Of course you do.” She shook her head with a smile, pausing to sip her tea. “I was livid, absolutely livid that you were suspending me and confiscating my Scythe. I kept telling you to leave but-”

“But I did not.”

“-but you wouldn’t.” A nostalgic smile. “I’m glad you stayed. I really needed you then, just like I needed you the other night.”

He ran his finger along the curve of the teacup handle, the bone china cold and unmarred. The scent of cold Lady Grey still clings to it, the bergamot a pungent aroma.

“You’re a busy man, Director Spears.” Grell teases, blowing cautiously on her tea to cool it before she takes another sip. “So I appreciate any time away from work you take for me.”

“I would have taken however much you needed.”

“Silly creature I am, wasting all your precious time.”

“It was not a waste.”

“I’m not worth it, I know. You’ve told me often, even if it wasn’t through words.” She set the cup down and lay her palm on a document folder. “The results came back yesterday, but I couldn’t bear to tell you.”

“You should have.”

“I should have, I know. Silly me.” No humor lay in her eyes despite her playful tone. “But I didn’t want to tell you, not until I’d had some time to mull it over.”

“I could have arranged something. I could have made leway for you.”

“I’m going to be sick.” A pause, a laugh, a correction. “Well, I  _am_  sick already but I’m going to be a lot worse soon enough.”

“The team have learned from Agent Humphries’ case and-”

“I’m not going to spend my life pumped full of medication while I’m eaten from the inside. I’m not.”

“They could have helped you.”

“Besides, I can’t waste any more of your precious time.”

“You are not a waste of time.” William replied firmly, but she wasn’t looking, was far away in her own thoughts.

“Do you remember when you assigned Ronnie to me? I was so grumpy you were giving me another graduate to mentor.” There’s life back in her smile and she looks beautiful framed in the window’s sunlight and he wishes she knew he thought so.

“He looked up to you. He loved you as both mentor and family, if we creatures can call it as such.”

“Be good to him, please.”

“Why did you do this?”

“He’s a bundle of mischief but he’s hardworking and spirited, and wants to make you proud. Be good to my Ronnie, please.” Her brows crease with pain and she presses a hand to her chest.

“Grell why did you do this?”

“It’s going to be bumpy for him and the others, being one Agent down so soon after we lost both Eric and Alan.” Grell crumples her napkin, looking at the document folder with worry. “But go easy on him, won’t you?”

“I could have done something, had you only told me instead of-”

“I know you’ll be angry at me, but I have to do this my way. You know I’m very stubborn like that.” A sheepish grin that soon vanishes. “I’m not like Alan. I don’t have what he had.”

“Grell, please.”

“But that’s alright!” A forced laugh. “That’s quite alright because I’m Jack the Ripper. Or is that Reaper? I’m the mad ginger and the Red Juliet and a whole host of naughty identities.”

“You were my friend.”

“I’d like to think I was your friend, too.” She follows the outline of her printed name on the folder with her finger. “I’d like to think I was more than that, but…”

“I love you.” William whispers and it hurts, everything hurts and the way she looks at him with tears and a smile hurts more than anything he’s ever felt.

“I’m not sorry for this, I’m not.” She’s toying with a pair of rose clippers, her replacement Scythe, and the blades are sharp and polished and deadly. “I’m not Alan, and I won’t wither away into a husk that needs protecting and coddling. I am Grell Sutcliff, after all.”

“I love you, Grell.”

“Tell Ronnie I-” She starts, before pursing her lips. “Ah, he knows. I’m sure he knows.”

“Grell-” William reaches for her but the blade is already in her chest, sharp and deadly and final.

“I thought I could tell you, but even now I’m hesitating because I’m a little too shy.” She’s laughing as she bleeds and bleeds and bleeds. “Oh William…”

“I am so sorry, Grell, I am so very sorry.”

She mouths three words, three last words, before falling still.

[ **End of recording** ]

The reel halts to a stop, the projection fading until he’s left sitting at an empty dining table, the remnants of a breakfast for two still laid out. He lingers for a moment, two, three, before fetching his coat and leaving.

He closes the door behind him, and tomorrow he’ll return to have breakfast with her for the last time.

Again.


End file.
